YANKEE GO HOME

The Appalachian Mountains of Eastern Tennessee – God’s Country!

I HAD BEEN LIVING in London for three decades when a voice in my head began nagging me. “Yankee Go Home,” it said. I believe all ex-pats hear this voice no matter what their home country. It’s natural to want to be home especially as we age. And though I remain eternally grateful to Britain for giving me the use of the hall for so long, I had fallen out of love with the place and the feeling was mutual. 

The London I moved to thirty years earlier had become unrecognizable. Believe it or not, back then, London was shut on Sundays and the idea of a Muslim mayor was laughable. (A Hindu Prime Minister? Impossible.) In fact, I was shocked in 1990 when I saw just one completely veiled Muslim woman on the street! For the first twenty years of my London adventure, crime – especially violent crime – was very low and there was a general orderliness and decency about the place. (At least compared to the New York City I had fled.) I miss London circa 1990 as I miss New York circa 1956. Sadly, both cities are gone forever. 

By 2010, I was looking behind me on the streets and looking at anti-FGM billboards on the tubes. I also had to slalom through a feces-strewn tent city to get into my tube station. Then I had a fist fight with a pickpocket on a London bus (I won) and the police questioned me! Before my eyes, London had morphed into Detroit with a few Ye Olde touristy bits. It was time for this actor to exit and pronto. 

Some readers may remember my earlier post “Fade to Black” which catalogued the deliberate discrimination against White performers. (The best-selling thriller author James Patterson says that White writers now face the same attack.) Well… since the BLM riots and media company capitulation to the Black mobs, that anti-White discrimination has increased exponentially. Anyone who watches film and TV now recognizes how much non-White faces have invaded our screens. So, I was facing a future as an old White actor in London who would be unemployable or offered roles in anti-White garbage that I would never accept. Then Covid hit and I was shocked and disappointed by how easily the Brits surrendered. Other nations did the same but somehow, I expected better of the British. So… in May of 2021 – feeling as though I was escaping East Berlin in the Cold War – I split for points West. 

Davy Crockett

Strange to report, this Brooklyn boy didn’t end up back on the stoops of Brooklyn but rather in the Appalachian Mountains of Eastern Tennessee – Davy Crockett country! In 1955, like every other kid in the US, I lived in my Davy Crockett coonskin cap. Now, by some strange twist of fate, I was living a stone’s throw from Davy’s birthplace. And it’s as close to a Goldilocks spot as you could find. The waves of White urbanites fleeing here prove my point. The terrain is beautiful, the climate temperate, the demographics 95% White, and, prior to the Biden economy, it was remarkably affordable. Sadly, in my one year in this demi-paradise the price of gas has doubled with no ceiling in sight and food prices are skyrocketing, too. 

More bad news is that the anti-White bias controls show business here, too. The casting notices for screen, stage, or voice work are all skewed toward non-Whites and people who clearly have more genders than sense. The producers and directors trumpet their preferred pronouns and expect me to do the same. (I don’t.) The Web pages of regional theaters are plastered with Black faces giving the impression that theater is an almost exclusively Negro invention and activity. And these theatres proclaim that their primary mission is not to put on good productions of plays that a paying audience might enjoy seeing, but rather to promote racial equality, social justice, diversity, and inclusion — especially for the LGBTQLMNOP+ community. When I phone the office of the Screen Actors Guild, I am given a list of options to dial if I have experienced racial or sexual abuse. It’s revealing that I am not given a phone option if I, as a worker, feel I have been monetarily abused. The once mighty SAG union has been effectively busted by the Jewish media moguls who claim to be all for social justice.

Tennessee is a solid red (Republican) state, and I am living in the reddest part of that state. This is Trump Country. I landed here only a few months after Biden took office, but the roads were already lined with Trump 2024 signs, and I regularly see hilariously filthy anti-Biden bumper stickers too vulgar to recount. The folk here are very, very pro-police and pro-military. Tennessee is known as the Volunteer State because it has always sent more men per capita to the military than any other. 

Veterans are worshipped here. They get special sales, parking spots, and meal deals. I’m the only guy not wearing a t-shirt declaring “Proud Vietnam War Veteran” or “Proud Korean War Veteran.” Many wear hats that proclaim, “Proud Wounded Veteran” or, even better, “Proud Battle-Wounded Veteran.” The sad truth is that these brave men are knee-jerk super-patriots. They were cannon fodder but can’t admit it. As much as they despise Biden, if he sent them into battle, they would click their heels (even their prosthetic ones) and be off. As far as they are concerned, no American ever fought in an unjust war.

The spoils of war.

I believe this mindset is a legacy of the Civil War. Southern men, with their British blood, love to fight. But they also feel a need to prove they are loyal to the union. I’ve seen this same syndrome in Mormons who also had a long history of bloody opposition to the rest of America. That’s why they disproportionately serve in the FBI and CIA. This “rah-rah the flag” mentality makes discussing American foreign policy a minefield. I have used the Russia-Ukraine war to make some progress, but I first must counter the anti-Russia nonsense they’ve been fed by the media including Fox News.

I thought there were lots of churches in Rome until I moved to Eastern Tennessee. There are churches everywhere here, even in the middle of the forest. Baptist is by far the most common denomination, but there are more versions of Baptist than Heinz has beans. Then there are the other major Protestant groups along with Church of Christ, Church of God, and assorted micro-denominations. Catholics are rarer than rocking-horse shit. In fact, when I tell people I’m an ex-Catholic they look for my horns and hooves. I’m told that in one church very near me they handle snakes. But don’t get the impression I’m living in a hillbilly holler. This region has ballet companies and symphonies. Life is very similar in the Appalachian Mountains up and down the East Coast. Anyone familiar with the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania or the Adirondacks of New York would feel at home here. 

That Old Rugged Cross

Everyone I meet invites me to their church, so I’ve been to quite a few. The services are bland with decent contemporary Gospel singing and generic “Jesus loves you” sermons. The congregants are ancient and busily waiting for The Rapture. They are instinctively against all the right things like globohomo and open borders but are unaware that organized Jewry is pushing these poisons. Most have never even met a Jew in their lives. (The same is true in Mormon Utah.) Most churches are not explicitly Christian Zionist, but they have a Disneyfied picture of the Twelve Tribes. In their artwork, Moses looks like Charlton Heston and the ancient Jews look Bavarian. This makes it difficult to make them see the truth about modern Jews and the criminal state of Israel. After all, “That nice Charlton Heston wouldn’t do anything un-Christian to us.”

The Hebe of their dreams.

The naïveté of these Christians extends to homosexuality. They are vehemently against it but don’t really know how truly degenerate it is. It is beyond their comprehension and simply too distasteful to discuss. As a result, some queers are making headway in the local school system pushing those “Cindy Has Two Mommies” books. I raised the issue with several local politicians. They simply could not comprehend what I was talking about and didn’t want to know. So, ironically, the unspeakable nature of homosexuality is its best defense. 

Love Is Love

Against my better judgement, I attended a 100% White Republican Party luncheon and, as I feared, it was full of back-slapping Chamber of Commerce types and their former beauty queen wives. None of the candidates who addressed us said anything of substance or that couldn’t have been said by a Democrat. Not a peep about race or the Great Replacement Policy. In private conversation, I asked the candidates some tough questions about race, but they brushed them off as not relevant because we’re all God’s children. (Christianity is a big problem for White nationalism!) I later learned that most of these candidates run unopposed, so they have become complacent. 

These politicians and their constituents are in for a shock and a fight. The forces of darkness have crept into these mountains while their backs were turned. There is now an Islamic Cultural Center here.

The regional airport will no doubt soon be forced to accept Biden’s secret nighttime flights filled with non-White invaders. One local church has just imported an Afghani family with their entire village soon to follow, along with their goats. And, as is always the case, the local university is a haven to Jewish professors and pink-haired, morbidly obese creatures of dubious sexuality. I doubt these psycho-sexual misfits can find common cause with the native conservative Christians. I predict conflict in the not-too-distant future. The locals better conjure the fighting spirit of their British pioneer ancestors, or they will go the way of the dodo.

Calling All Celts!

I oppose violence and would never condone or encourage it. But as America faces social collapse and the inevitable chaos it brings; it is comforting to know that there are four million registered deer hunters in Pennsylvania alone. I doubt many of those are non-binary. Tennessee is even more gun-friendly. The media-hyped mass shootings in America just increase gun sales here. (By the way, the US ranks only 64th in the world in mass shootings!) In fact, in this state you don’t even need a license to own a gun and concealed carry licenses are easy to come by. The men I see in Walmart with shirts hanging over their belts are concealing more than their beer guts. That said, this is the most peaceful region I’ve ever lived in. Maybe it’s because so many people are armed. In my one year here, I have not seen one violent incident or even heard a raised voice. 

In some ways, America is little changed in my thirty years away. The shape of daily life is about the same. Ubiquitous phones, social media, and technology are one definite change and one for the worse. But the rise of entitlement culture is the biggest change I’ve seen. The glorification of victimhood and vulnerability. The rampant narcissism. I believe a certain Austrian painter called it, “The tyranny of the unwell.” 

Thanks to voter fraud, the Democrats avoided being wiped out in the recent mid-term elections. But the results proved this is a 50-50 country with no hopes of reconciliation. The left and right need a no-fault divorce. The Whites and non-Whites need racial separation. Barring those rational, compassionate solutions things will get very ugly.

Meanwhile, the race to replace Biden as the Democrat nominee in 2024 will be as heated as that to replace Johnson in 1968. I predict this period will be similarly riot-filled and blood-soaked. All the entitled minority factions will be off the chain. And I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather ride out the storm than smack dab in Davy Crockett country! 

________________________

Available as a paperback and eBook here and here and as an eBook here

FLY INDIA

Your reporter recently got a cheery message courtesy of the lethally incompetent and lethally politicized National Health System of Great Britain.

Here it is –

Grinning skull with nurse cap
SHOULD YOU BE WORRIED ABOUT THE INDIA COVID-19 VARIANT?

Throughout the pandemic we’ve seen various mutations of COVID 19. The latest variant of concern originated in India.

This new variant is a reminder that the pandemic isn’t over. The world will need to continue taking measures to keep ourselves and our communities safe for some time to come.

Ominously, this latest threat of lockdowns-to-come happened just as Victoria, Australia went back into lockdown following a minuscule Covid outbreak as winter began down under.

For those of you whose knowledge of the Indian sub-continent consists of re-runs of Sabu movies allow me to explain that India was once the “Jewel in the Crown” of the British Empire. And, even though it won independence thanks to the efforts of that noted urine-drinker Mahatma Gandhi, it remains part of the British Commonwealth.

That’s why Indians can easily immigrate to Britain along with former colonials from Africa, Asia and the Caribbean. 

This is a perfect example of that dire warning –

“If we go there, they come here.”

This is why modern Britain looks more like Gandhi than Gladstone and more like Nairobi than Nottingham.

So, when this latest Covid variant reared its ugly head in the shit-caked sub-continent, half the population of Mumbai and Delhi packed up their begging bowls and high-tailed it to Britain. 

Ever vigilant, Prime Minister Boris “I’m the laziest, dumbest douche in England” Johnson sprang into action and ordered flights from India blocked two weeks from next Tuesday.

Indians may be infected and infested but dumb they ain’t. They used the wide window Johnson gave them to swarm into Britain (and anywhere else that would have them) in record numbers. 

The major airlines that brag about being concerned for passenger’s health and that they fully support BLM and LGBTQ+LMNOP and every other poison of our age, immediately tried to add more flights from India to Britain.

Betcha those “progressive” airlines tried to add flights worldwide.

To their credit (although they should have barred all flights from India immediately), all but one of the UK’s airports refused to add additional flights. The one exception was Birmingham Airport.

One look at the racial demographics of that city will explain why.

Hint: Birmingham is as British as a biryani.    

If you think I am being a mean ol’ racist consider that allowing possibly infected Indians into Britain jeopardizes Indians already there. Duh.

Hey, ya want racist?

Take a gander at the Hindu Caste System. It is apartheid, segregation and eugenics on steroids. And Indians flying into the West bring the caste system with them as a carry-on.

Hindu Caste system
Honest world travellers will tell you that the Indians and Chinese are the most racist races on earth.  

Meanwhile… We in the West are constantly told that we must import massive numbers of “brilliant” Indian IT engineers and coders or we won’t be able screw in a lightbulb.

Anyone who has endured the sheer hell of phoning an Indian call-center or computer help-line knows how preposterous that claim is.

Lissen ta me.

These Indian “geniuses” (with massive families in tow) are brought into the West to squat in low-pay IT jobs and keep out more qualified Whites who will demand better wages from the “progressive” Robber Barons of Silicon Valley.   

Lissen ta me.

Far from being a land of geniuses, India is a land of street-shitters.

Don’t believe me?

Find the TedTalks episode on youtube of the heavily disguised Indian academic who dares to tell the truth about the lack of basic hygiene in his homeland. He is heavily disguised lest those peaceable Indians cut him into pieces.

Hear him explain how Indians for all their brilliance have yet to figure out the care and feeding of an outhouse. So, excrement in its various forms – liquid, solid, steam and dust doth abound.

And that’s just the human excrement.

Don’t forget cows are sacred in India and they roam everywhere.

Pile of cow dung
Imagine, if you will, this hot steaming pile drying in the sun and the resulting shit-dust blowing onto everything and everyone.

Ever wonder why India produces so many boys with nine legs and girls with seven arms?  

Ever wonder why India is still plagued by leprosy, smallpox and well… plague?

Plague
Ya know Bubonic plague? The Black Death?

And, smallpox.

Smallpox
I don’t even wanna know what bigpox looks like.

And, leprosy.

Ya know… when your fingers, toes, arms and legs putrefy and fall off and you go blind? 

Leper
Yeah, that leprosy.

I’ll tell ya why India is still home to these scourges.

Coz it’s a fuckin’ shithole. 

And the denizens of this shithole are flooding into the West and the “progressive” airlines are doing everything they can to increase that flood.

India is teeming with holy men, gurus, seers and mystics. One of the current top shysters…er, I mean Sadhus is one Sadhguru. Think of him as a latter day Maharishi Mahesh Yogi – ya know, the holy snake oil salesman who entranced the Beatles, Beach Boys and half of Hollywood.

On youtube, see Sadhguru become indignant when a Westerner dares to question why India is so hygienically-challenged. He defends India’s status as an open-latrine as being glorious chaos that the Indians love.

Life is like a bloated, dead body floating in the Ganges, isn’t it?

If the Indians haven’t cleaned up their act since Buddah was a boy what makes ya think they ever will?

Hint: They won’t.

Outraged and offended Indians (and their apologists) can prove me wrong at a stroke. Forbid the Indian geniuses from leaving and put them to work solving India’s problems and healing the poor bastards afflicted with plague, smallpox and leprosy.

Seems practical and compassionate to me.

India is full of millionaires and Mensa members.

What’s stopping them?   

There may be a temporary pause in the filthy flood but, going forward, all the delights of Indian health and hygiene are coming to a country near you. In fact, many of those delights are already there. 

Feel better now?

Whether Covid is real or as dangerous as claimed, as long as the West allows free movement to and from the Third World, it will be vulnerable to endless pandemics real, imagined or manufactured.

Unless our borders are closed, the entire world will become the Third World.

Or, is that the agenda? 

So, how do we fix it?

I’ll tell ya how?

The solution is simple.

Flit gun
All that’s needed is the political will.  

I’ll let the incomparable Noel Coward have the last word.

Noel Coward quote on travel

______________________

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as a paperback and eBook on amazon.com and amazon.co.uk and as an eBook here

COVID QUESTION #2

Red question mark

So, I was listening to an African lady doctor being interviewed on a major talk radio station.

Cartoon Black lady doctor
This gal is a world-renowned expert on infectious disease and works for W.H.O.

For those of you who haven’t been paying attention, W.H.O. is the World Health Organisation of the United Nations. Along with being notoriously corrupt and inept, it’s the main purveyor of the pandemic hoax.

Anyway… this woman explained that Black African immigrants have higher rates of Covid infection and death than Whites due to “cultural factors.”

What she dared not say was those factors include all too many Blacks believing wacknoid conspiracy theories about Western medicine being part of a genocidal program perpetrated against them by evil Whitey. So, even those Blacks genuinely infected with Covid (or, anything) avoid effective health care.

Hell, Africans still consult witch doctors when plagued with pesky problems like kuru, scrofula and, uh, well… plague. 

Hell, in Africa, witch doctors chop albinos into little pieces to make magic potions to cure impotence, dandruff and the heartbreak of psoriasis.

African albino boy with arm hacked off
And you thought I was joshin’ ya.

Hell, in Africa, men rape infants to cure AIDS.

Why Men Rape Babies

If that isn’t happening then why are charities asking me to give money to stop it?

Poster - I don't cure AIDS!

The African doctoress went on the say that many “people of color” including those of African descent work at “ground zero” of Covid – public transportation, care homes and hospitals. Then, she inadvertently spilled the beans – 

“The sad truth is that the vast majority of non-White immigrants who come to the West carry latent TB.”

That was when your correspondent spat his Fruit Loops all over his radio.

Cartoon man vomiting
“Whoa, whoa, rewind – WHATTHEFUCK???!!!”

When I was a kid in Brooklyn, we joked that TB stood for Twisted Balls. Now, let it be said that Twisted Balls is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, sneezing whilst afflicted with Twisted Balls must really, really smart. But that’s not the TB to which our Black lady clinician was referring. No, she meant Tuberculosis. Ya know, Tuberculosis? The world’s most infectious and deadly bronchial infection?

Poster - Fight Tuberculosis
Yeah, that TB.

Now lemme think… wasn’t there something in the news recently about a super-infectious and potentially deadly bronchial infection making the rounds? Hmmmnnn… wait… it’ll come to me… oh, yeah – Covid -19.

Sketch of detective with magnifying glass
Curious to a fault, your intrepid reporter felt compelled to consult his well-thumbed copies of Gray’s Anatomy and Funk & Wagnalls dictionary plus official government websites where he learned this – 

If you have latent TB, the TB bacteria in your body are ‘asleep’. You are not ill and you cannot pass TB on to others. 

However, the bacteria might ‘wake up’ many years later, making you ill with active TB.

Latent TB bacteria are more likely to wake up if you experience lifestyle stresses or other illnesses that weaken your immune system.

Uh… might working at “ground zero” of Covid count as a stressful lifestyle? 

Uh… any chance Covid might weaken a person’s immune system?  

But, enough about them. How ‘bout us?

If you were already battling a serious bronchial infection would you want to be driven, nursed or doctored by someone carrying the most infectious and deadly bronchial infection known to man?

Be honest now. Would ya? Huh?  

Lest you think I am being a meanie to those poor folks from the Third World who are sadly afflicted with TB, I remind you that during the Great European Migration into America, White immigrants deemed physically or mentally unfit were shipped back whence they came.

Doctor examining boys at Ellis Island
White criminals, lunatics and those with TB were (Quite rightly) kicked the fuck out no matter how old they were.
Immigrants on ship deck in New York harbor
The ships that had allowed sick Whites to board were hit with heavy fines. So much for give us your tired, your poor…

Today, our governments literally invite the sick into our countries while airlines compete to see which can fly in more of the “wretched refuse.”

Hmmn… better make that “wretched and retching refuse.”

Here comes the $64,000 Covid Question

Electric sign for The $64,000 Question

And , it’s a two-parter – 

The same creeps who are pushing the official Covid narrative are those pushing for open borders and all the other outrages that will lead to The Great Replacement. 

So… Hands on buzzers, contestants.

  1. Do these creeps not know that TB is rampant in immigrants from the Third World? (In which case, they are criminally ignorant, medically incompetent and should not be allowed to dispense a single aspirin.)
  2. Or, do they know and are eager to flood the West with millions of ticking TB time-bombs which could explode at any time causing financial ruin and widespread death?  

It’s one or the other boys and girls. 

Back in my misspent Brooklyn boyhood I heard this ditty –

TB or not TB?  

That is the congestion. 

Consumptive be done about it? 

Of cough, of cough.

But not for a lung, lung time. 

Funny how prescient kid’s can be.  

Funny how Covid is being used to distract us from a genuine threat to our existence. 

Funny… yeah…

Black & White sketch of horrified male face
So, how come I ain’t laughin’? 

___________________

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as a paperback and eBook from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk and as an eBook here

Calling All Girls

Cartoon of town crier

While taking a break from rearranging my sock drawer and staring at the wall, I somehow stumbled across some vintage book covers and magazine ads. They seem to be from a pre-Jurassic world yet could not be more timely. I guess it’s true, “The more things change…”

It’s funny/tragic to see how straightforward and commonsensical things were “back then” and to see how much we have forgotten and can still learn from those who came before.

So grab a cup o’ Joe and stroll with me through this treasure trove of timeless advice for women.

Vintage magazine ad for female self-defense

Vintage magazine ad for armed woman and burglar

Vintage book cover for How to Use Jiu Jitsu

Vintage ad fro Colt pistol

Vintage book cover for female self-defense book

Book cover: Thank God I had a gun

The advice of yesteryear wasn’t just about being handy with your fists and shootin’ iron; though having a “classy chassis” and putting a tight grouping of six shots in an intruder’s torso is nothing to sneeze at. No, that advice was all about having a sound mind in a sound body.

Priceless wisdom then and even more so now and it holds double for men!

Vintage ad promoting reading

Read. Read. Read.

Read everything that’s not nailed down.

Read kitsch. Read classics.

Read.

Vintage book cover promoting reading by girls

Get off your phone.

Turn off your TV.

Read.

Vintage cartoon of winking woman

Men do make passes at girls who wear glasses!

Vintage cartoon of woking man.

Ladies, we need your feminine aspect, your wit, your wiles, your womanliness at its most natural and nurturing.

In the coming time of tribulation, we will need all of that plus we need you to be legally locked and loaded for bear!

Remember. Remember. Remember.

Defending Your People is a social duty
Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook and paperback from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk and as an eBook here

FADE TO BLACK

The darkening of our screens and stages and its part in the theft of our past and future

YOU FLY into London on a British Airways plane on which you are shown an animated film about safety. It stars a cartoon Black man with his cartoon White wife and their cartoon mixed-race child. You pass through immigration control and are poked and probed by Brown people wearing hijabs and turbans who jabber at you in an unintelligible version of the English language. Heading for the tube you pass a poster that shows a Black woman dressed in Elizabethan garb beckoning you to the Globe Theatre.

On the ride into town you see posters for the latest West End plays. There are productions of Shakespeare’s Richard II and Henry V starring Black women in the title roles. (The critics rave that these classic plays finally make sense.) There is also an Asian actor playing David Copperfield and Christmas pantos starring Blacks and Asians as Cinderella, Dick Whittington, and Snow White. Next to the entertainment ads are those for mortgages and mattresses all featuring Black men with White women. And, they are almost always blonde women.

You get home, put your feet up in front of the TV and notice that there are an unusually large number of Brown people on the streets of Victorian London as depicted in the BBC’s latest version of A Christmas Carol. And the villages of Midsomer are teeming with more people-of-color than your local benefits office. Even Doctor Who is suddenly a Black woman! You channel surf and are confronted by Black vikings, Black centurions, Black Tudors and an Asian King Arthur!

The news is read by a Brown person. The weather is given to you by a Brown person. Your favorite gardening program is presented by a Brown person. The Brown person presenting your favorite wildlife program explains without a trace of irony the danger of extinction faced by native fauna and flora due to the invasion of alien species.

A typical example of the “colour-blind” casting was the 1997 Disney adaptation of Cinderella — in which a negress Queen (played by Whoopi Goldberg) — and a White king somehow managed to have a Filipino son, who ends up married to a negress Cinderella.

In disgust, you turn off your TV and browse through the latest brochure from the National Trust. But something is odd — most of the people shown wandering around the stately homes of England are Brown. The mothers of the large, happy families in the photos wear Muslim or Hindu garb. The only White faces are those of blonde women holding hands with Black men and their mixed-race children.

Meanwhile, your teenage son is in his room playing a new computer game set in World War I. But, in this version of the Great War, the trenches look like a Saturday night in Brixton and the game’s logo is the face of a Black Tommy. You wonder if you have slipped into an alternate universe or are dreaming. But you aren’t dreaming. You are living through a waking nightmare. And I can tell you why.

I’ve been a professional actor for fifty years. I’m also a proud member of that most despised of all groups — old White men. I’m not a star or even a semi-name but you have probably seen and heard me many times. I know the world of advertising and show business. And I know how, why, and by whom our screens are being darkened, I am being denied work, and our past and future are being stolen from us.

The answer is BAME. It stands for “Black, Asian, or Mixed Ethnicity.” And that acronym is now an essential part of every media company’s ethos. When a “brand” is hiring actors for a commercial or a production company is hiring actors for a play, movie, or TV program, they proudly trumpet the fact that they prefer to see or will only see performers who are BAME. (Imagine what would happen if someone advertised with a preference for White actors and actresses.)

The Cultural Marxist octopus has many tentacles and has been at work in all the arts for many decades. As a child in 1950s America, I saw early attempts at “color-blind” casting. But, in the 1960s, the prominent New York theatrical producer Joseph Papp started pushing non-Whites big time in his Shakespearean productions in Central Park. (You will not be surprised to learn that Papp was a Jew.) I suffered through many productions of Romeo and Julietwith a Black Romeo and a White Juliet. Or a Black Macbeth and White Lady Macbeth. The audience “wasn’t supposed to notice” these racial absurdities and anyone who did was a “racist.” So, most people pretended not to notice — and they still do.

Oriental audiences are more forthright in their opinions. They want White heroes. Star Wars films that feature Black actors flop in China — a very important film market. So, the Star Wars producers avoid putting Black faces on the film posters. And, the latest Star Wars had to remove a “gay” kiss to make it acceptable to Orientals who want their heroes straight, too.

What’s wrong with this picture?

We Occidentals feel the same, even if most won’t admit it. We vote in private with our money. The producer of the mega-successful comic-book “cape hero” film franchise let slip at a convention that movies and action figures based on non-White characters don’t sell — worldwide. The sale of dolls, clothing and mugs, etc. is a major part of the profit stream for any film or animation. It is a racially revealing economic fact that Black Barbie and Ken dolls don’t sell — even to Black kids. “Gay” and trannie Barbies and Kens also gather dust on store shelves. White heterosexuality is the go-to choice for everyone.

But, shouting “commercial considerations be damned”, the Cultural Marxists have doubled down in Britain and are putting propaganda ahead of profit. The British Film Institute (BFI), which bestows crucial funding to film projects, fell into the tentacles of one Josh Berger, an American Jew with a long Hollywood history.

Under Berger’s malevolent influence the BFI has mandated higher levels of BAME. Any production that does not meet the set levels will be denied funding and thus any chance of distribution or awards. It will be dead. So, producers genuflect to globohomo and grind out the anti-White, anti-heterosexual, anti-Christian propaganda that pollutes our screens. Adding insult to injury, we are paying for this filth because the majority of the BFI’s money comes from the UK taxpayer!

The levels of “race and gender-blind” casting mandated include:

• At least one lead character must be non-White
• 50-50 male-female ratio in entire cast
• At least 20% of cast must be non-White
• At least 10% must be LGBTQ
• At least 7% disabled
• A large proportion of plot lines and filming locations must be set among underrepresented groups.

With those parameters in mind, try writing a film that should by natural law, reason, and historical fact be set in a White, male world. How can you fit that many women, homos, lesbians, trannies, Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Blacks, and crippled, cis-phobic, bi-curious Eskimos into a Lancaster bomber, a monastery, or the Alamo? And, I wonder if these same race and gender targets will apply if an all-Black film company sought funding for a movie set in a lesbian bathhouse in Somalia? Would the screenwriter have to find a way to squeeze White, Christian, hetero males into the steam room?

Uh… better make that – 12 Angry Black, Chinese, crippled, cis-phobic, trans-sexual, lesbian Eskimos.

We aren’t being betrayed by the BFI alone. The British Academy of Film and Television Arts which bestows the prestigious BAFTA awards is equally on-board the globohomo express though it is (small comfort) privately funded. Still, if you want to win a BAFTA you must bow down to the Cultural Marxists who run that outfit.

And British Equity (the actors’ union) promotes and protects every race but White. It cares nothing for the race that only created theatre, film, television, radio, the Internet, and trade unions! It promotes and protects every sexual persuasion but heterosexuality. My union dues are currently paying for a campaign to ensure that “trans” actors get to audition for roles of any gender including those of the gender they claim to have left. Meanwhile, I can’t get an audition to play an old White guy because it’s being played by a Black female-to-male trannie!

The BBC admitted that its “race-blind” casting of period dramas is not historically accurate but feels it is important to do it in the interests of cultural cohesion. Well… if this BAME business is not part of an anti-White agenda but just a well-intentioned attempt to make us all race- and “gender”-blind then when do I get to play Martin Luther King or Winnie Mandela?

Meanwhile, for all their disingenuous calls for race-blindness, Black performers insist on race-based preferential treatment and love “acting Black” — especially in period dramas. Notice how Black actors in plays by Shaw, Ibsen, or Wilde will use a ghetto pose and vocal inflection to get a cheap laugh. They are Black to their bones and they know it and are happy to play the minstrel if it’s to their advantage.

At this point a few questions come to mind. If non-Whites were important personages in what we thought had been a White world then what the hell are they complaining about? If Blacks really “wuz kangz” as the Black Israelites proclaim (including kangz of England) then where was the discrimination? And, if Blacks were capable of achieving so much back-in-the-day, then what the heck happened? Did they simply forget how to be physicians, scientists, architects, engineers and, yes, kangz?

Not Wakanda but Merrie Olde England.

Remember those National Trust (NT) brochures full of photos of happy smiling Brown people? They are a staged hoax. The National Trust advertised on casting sites all over Britain for BAME models and actors to pose as visitors and staff at stately homes. But, in reality, if you visit NT properties you will see that with rare exception they are delightfully White in both staff and visitors.

Still this hasn’t stopped the NT management from pushing globohomo. They “out” and promote queer members of the families that owned the properties. And they suggest that bent Uncle Bertie was the best of the bunch. The NT even tried to force its volunteers to wear rainbow flags but most refused. Meanwhile, when I speak privately with older NT volunteers, I find they have fond memories of Enoch Powell and Oswald Mosley.

I have starred in many TV commercials for top brands that were broadcast worldwide. I assure you that it isn’t merely fashion or whim that matches so many Black men with White women. In a thirty second commercial every second counts and nothing appears on screen by chance. I have seen directors, clients and cameramen almost come to blows in arguments over the color of my shirt. How much more debate has gone into the color of the actor’s skin?

No, these racial pairings are not accidental but are blatant attempts to break down the resistance to race-mixing from all races. Listen to Black talk radio programs and you will hear Black women weep that Black men are encouraged to get blondes. In fact, Black nationalists (our mirror image and possible allies) believe that race-mixing is the ultimate sin. And we know what happens to Asian girls who race-mix. But, as with films, the Cultural Marxists don’t give a damn and plow on, sacrificing profits for propaganda.

Case in point: Gillette recently ran an anti-male ad campaign that suggested all men (especially White men) are sex-pests. White men were outraged. This campaign culminated in an ad in which a Black father showed his daughter who had “transitioned to male” how to shave. This time Black men were outraged. This PC campaign cost Gillette a record amount of profit. But its CEO said it was worth it to promote “diversity.”

Careful now, daughter, er… I mean, son… uh… whatever da hell you is. Wouldn’t want ya to slit your throat now, would we?

Alongside the tribe that foments and feasts off our replacement lives an opportunistic parasite — the Black “race hustler.” The uber-obnoxious Whoopi Goldberg is a master of this scam. And, despite being as funny as a fire in an orphanage, Whoopi has made a fortune playing the fat, sassy soul-sista who is the repository of all wisdom. (Sort of an X-rated version of Mammy in Gone with the Wind or a potty-mouthed Aunt Jemima.)

You’ll notice that this smart, sassy maid stereotype is a staple of sitcoms. She is always the smartest person in the house she cleans. She’s certainly smarter than the doofus White dad who is the butt of all her jokes. (There is literally a genre of US sitcom called “Doofus Dad.”)

Believing her own bullshit, Goldberg has morphed into a political pundit. She holds forth daily on US TV on all manner of subjects while injecting the race card into all of them — no matter how misplaced. She gets away with this because Whites are afraid of challenging her lest they be called “racist.” Believe me, if you think Jews are good at squeezing the “Holocaust” into any discussion, you ain’t seen nuthin’ till you see Whoopi at work. (We have the Jewish director Mike Nichols to thank for Goldberg’s rise to fame.)

Another race-hustler is Bonnie Greer, a smug, American Negress based in the UK and a poor man’s Goldberg. Greer is a regular on BBC political chat programs where she is introduced as a “noted American playwright.” But I challenge anyone on either side of the pond to name a single Bonnie Greer play. In fact, in America she is entirely unknown. The woman is a fraud. And, like Whoopi, she benefits from Whites’ reticence to call her out.

The BBC loves wheeling her out because it allows them to tick certain boxes on their diversity chart. Foreigner. Female. Black. Greer’s many appearances allow her to shoe-horn the race card into every subject imaginable while demonstrating the stultifying banality of her opinions. But, I gotta give this sassy, soul-sista credit because with no talent (especially no playwriting talent) she has become the House Negro of the British middle class and (wait for it) — a board member of the British Museum!

“You racist, sexist bastards, I wanted to play LADY MacBeth!

Homosexuals are also useful idiots for their Cultural Marxist masters. They’ll do anything if it gives them the chance to snort poppers and wear frocks. Meanwhile, the lesbians happily play along because they get to wear the pants on stage in taxpayer-funded all-female Shakespearean productions. It is true that in Shakespeare’s day young men played the female roles. But, this was not transvestism by choice. It was necessary because women weren’t allowed on the Elizabethan stage. And there was no kissing or touching in the original productions.

Homosexual playwrights, directors, and designers rarely miss a chance to demean Whiteness and masculinity and to degrade females. In a recent London production of a play based on Patrick Hamilton’s brilliant WW2 novel The Slaves of Solitude, the queer director and adapter changed the American GI who was the play’s love interest into a Black soldier. This was impossible casting for all sorts of reasons. But it allowed the queers to indulge in their own fantasy of having a Black buck ravage the spinsterish English heroine.

There have been many other instances of plays and musicals being mangled by ludicrous race and “gender-bending” casting. Edward Albee, Arthur Miller, Tennessee Williams, Noel Coward, and Rodgers and Hammerstein all forbade such changes. Some of those men were homosexual but they still recognized cultural vandalism when they saw it. Sadly, their estates are managed by their PC grandchildren determined to make their Grandpa’s back catalogue hipster-friendly. That sound you hear is of those disrespected gents turning in their graves.

Politically Correct theatre was typified by the multiracial, “anti-fascist” production of Hamlet at the Irish Theatre, Covent Garden in 2019.

Meanwhile, the hypocrisy of the Cultural Marxists and their apparatchiks in the arts is stunning. They live in the Whitest communities they can find and send their children to the Whitest schools. (The Clintons live in the Whitest zip code in America, and Jewish Bernie Sanders moved from multi-ethnic Brooklyn to Vermont — the Whitest state!) The only contact these hypocrites have with any non-White is with their Black maids. And, if she gets too sassy, they’ll fire her Black ass.

As employers these showbiz Marxists are anything but progressive. All the major film, TV, and commercial producers including the big streaming services film their projects in poor countries. South Africa and Eastern Europe are especially popular. They do this to bust the performer’s unions in the US and UK.

This anti-worker behavior is nothing new. In the 1930s, the Jewish movie moguls who ran Hollywood hired goon squads to bust up organizing meetings for the Screen Actors Guild. Meanwhile, British Equity is too busy creating new genders to act as a genuine trade union and fight the media giants.

These media “liberals” also go abroad to abuse and exploit the local actors and crews. The same producers and stars who cry on the awards shows about Trump and climate change and animal rights allow film extras to be treated like cattle — forced to stand in the cold and wet for many hours (sometimes all night) and given little or no food and very meagre wages.

I’ve had extras beg me for food while the loud-mouth lefty stars dined like Meghan Markle. And the film crews are forced to work round the clock which leads to unsafe conditions. I have seen actors and extras almost decapitated by machinery. I have walked off unsafe sets but most actors are afraid to stand up for themselves.

If I sound angry it’s because I am. And I’m proud of it. I’m also proud of my history, heritage, and culture and I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone degrade, destroy, or steal them. My anger is fueled by the blood of my ancestors that flows through my veins. And as long as that most precious blood flows through me, I shall do all I can to expose and resist the deliberate genocide of our people. A genocide that is being dramatized and broadcast. On prime time. And we are paying to watch the spectacle.

If you don’t believe me, just go to a movie or play. Turn on your radio or TV. Or, just open your eyes. It’s happening. It isn’t a sitcom or movie. It’s real. It’s deliberate. And we can stop it. But the entirely legal means of doing so are best discussed elsewhere. In the meantime — Hail Victory!

This article originally appeared in Heritage and Destiny a bi-monthly 24-page magazine, published in the UK, to reflect a cross section of 21st century racial-nationalist opinion. For a sample copy please send $10.00 to; H&D, 40 Birkett Drive, Preston, PR2 6HE, England, UK. For full subscription details check out heritageanddestiny.com

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook here and as a paperback and eBook from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk

BROOKLYN BOOKS #5

I love reading good books – especially good books set in New York. I’m guessing you do to or you wouldn’t be here. And, I’m guessing that, like me, you love discovering book stores built over basements bursting with used books and then hunting and coughing your way through the dusty stacks.

I even have a recurring dream of descending into an imagined basement in a Manhattan slum and finding the used book store of my dreams. (Literally of my dreams.) For years, I’ve been returning to this seemingly limitless catacomb.   

The great joy of being a book hunter is stumbling over a new author, subject or world. Here are some of my most treasured discoveries – 

Psychic Dictatorship in America 

by Gerald B. Bryan (1940)

Guy and Edna Ballard – the Bonnie & Clyde of the Occult
  • An insider’s exposé of The Mighty I Am. This spiritualist cult was popular in the 1930s and is still around. The money-mad Ballards gave birth to many imitators and set the template for the entire New Age movement complete with fairies, fruitcakes and frauds. On orders from the Ascended Masters, adherents murdered their pets. No foolin’.

Instantaneous Personal Magnetism 

by Edmund Shaftesbury (1933) 

“Look into my eyes, stop fidgeting and remove your wet clothes… ”
  • Tips published by the International Magnetism Club based in Manchester, England. Chock full of lifesaving information on nerve tensing, magnetic foods, wet clothes, thin shoes and fidgets. Hey, these guys were from Manchester and that’s good enough for me. Betcha they were Masons, too.

Adventures with Vending Machines

by Ray Burkett (1967)

Vending sun tans in the 1940s.
And, people doubt that man landed on the moon.
  • The “straight skinny” from one-who-knows on how to make millions stocking gumball machines in garages and paperback book racks in drug stores. With special chapters on, condom vending machines, pay toilets, the salted-in-the-shell peanut racket and the ever-fraught subject of vending in negro locations.  

Analism Among the Poor 

by Preston Harriman (1970)

Part of Harriman’s multi-volume indictment of class struggle and lube.
  • Harriman’s oeuvre includes: Analism Among the Poor, Analism Among the Rich, Anal Girl, From Adultery to Analism and Oral Aunts. (Preston was either hungry for a change of pace, or had a very friendly aunt.) Sadly, I’ve found only the one work by Harriman but I live in hope. Still, I’m not sure I’d shake his hand at a book signing.
And you thought I was kidding!

But what does all this have to do with Joe the Engineer, I hear you cry. This –

You know how it is – your moving down the used book aisle, head tilted sideways, giving yourself scoliosis, scanning the book spines when a title catches your interest. You never heard of the author. The cover and blurbs intrigue you. You read the first sentence and next thing you know the clerk is telling you the store is closing. You blow the mildew from your lungs, brush the cobwebs from your clothes and head up to the cashier clutching gold-in-print. 

That’s how I found Joe the Engineer by Chuck Wachtel (1983). I stumbled over it in the used book basement of the original Sam Weller’s in Salt Lake City. I found Francine Prose, David Markson, Charles Portis, Sam Lypsyte and Tom Perrotta in similar basements around the world. (They haven’t written any “Brooklyn” books so I’m not featuring them on this blog. But, if you are a fan of dazzling prose, do yourself a favor and read them. Trust me. Just do it.) 

Anyone who has read my memoir Boy Outa Brooklyn will know that my opinion of the neighboring Borough of Queens is not high. Since Wachtel’s book is set in that hellhole, it’s not a “Brooklyn” book. But, since I grew up surrounded by “Joe the Engineers” and might have been one myself, and since it validates everything I’ve written about Queens and since it is so damn good and since this is my blog and I can do whatever I wanna do – I’m gonna do you a favor by making it my Brooklyn Book # 5. (So there.)

Joe the Engineer is quite simply one of the truest and most moving novels of working-class life ever written. I cannot recommend it highly enough. 

Chuck the Wachtel

Joe is a Vietnam vet stuck in a dead-end job reading meters in Queens basements and living in Richmond Hill – the same dead-end Queens neighborhood where he grew up.

Joe’s Richmond Hill, Queens is the evil twin my South Brooklyn.

Joe is saddled with half-assed intelligence and half-assed dreams. And, Wachtel does a masterful job of capturing the mind of a person who isn’t fully conscious of the “how and why” of his miserable state but senses that something is wrong somewhere. The working class is full of such “canaries in a coal mine.” The media loves to mock them when they are inarticulate in their rage and confusion but I’ve always heard them loud and clear.  

I’ve heard them because I am one of them. My antenna has always been finely attuned to pick up snide condescension from the elites. (That’s what cost Hillary Clinton the election. White workers ain’t dumb ya know.) So, I appreciated how “working-class Wachtel” applied his writer’s eye to our shared caste without snobbery or sentimentality. 

I especially enjoyed listening to Joe’s thoughts as he read his customer’s lives while reading their basement meters. I saw him as a blue-collar Howard Carter mining the minutiae of ancient Egyptian life from hieroglyphs though in Joe’s case it is from ancient wall calendars and broken toys.

In one exquisitely painful passage, the unhappily married Joe has a disastrous one-night-stand with a supermarket checkout girl.
 

I found a 1983 radio interview with Wachtel – the year Joe was published. I was pleased but not surprised to learn that one of Chuck’s literary models was Hubert Selby Jr. whose Last Exit to Brooklyn is one of my Brooklyn Books. I was less pleased and surprised that Wachtel sounded prissy and academic. And when he blithely stated that America was a “mulatto” nation, my antenna started twitching. “Mulatto” is code for White genocide. It’s shorthand for “Death to Joe the Engineer.”

Happily, in 2020, “mulatto” is still not the norm in America and race-mixing is frowned upon by the vast majority of all races. (Don’t believe me? Listen to minority talk radio.) And, it was certainly not the rule fifty years ago despite Wachtel’s best wishes. However, due to the subversive work of those condescending elites (whom Wachtel chastised) and their fellow-travellers like, ironically, Chuck Wachtel himself, the Joe the Engineers of Richmond Hill and the world are being replaced. 

Joe’s parents circa 1950
The couple who bought Joe’s parent’s house.
Ya think they have racial consciousness?

Yes, the solidly White working-class Richmond Hill, Queens to which Joe returned after being used as cannon fodder in Viet Nam is now not open to his kind. For Richmond Hill, Queens is now known as Little India-Guyana-Trinidad and Tobago.     

Richmond Hill circa 2050.
Who needs water meters when there’s no water?

I eagerly sought out and read Wachtel’s other works which include poetry but, for me, Chuck is a one-hit-wonder. Still, as with those other liberal half-wits I’ve reviewed, Alfred Kazin and Pete Hamill, I’m gonna cut Chuck Wachtel some slack coz he wrote a beauty.  Do yourself a favor – read it!

There seems to be a movie in the works but I fear they’ll kill the book with politically correct crap. Betcha the supermarket check out girl is Black or Muslim. And, probably cast with Chuck’s approval. Never mind –  “I hereby pronounce Joe the Engineer an honorary Brooklyn Boy.”

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook here
and as a paperback and eBook from
amazon.com
amazon.co.uk

The Death of New York

Dystopian view of New York City

I visit my hometown a year after 9/11 and find it dusty, deflated and more ascared than ever. Paranoia and para-military security guards are everywhere while humor and spunk are nowhere to be found. I search for New York but it is gone. It is gone because New Yorkers are gone. The city has been stolen from the great people who forged it into the greatest metropolis ever known. But, it isn’t planes flying into unloved skyscrapers that displaces those giants who created the Chrysler Building, the Empire State Building, Central Park, the Metropolitan Opera, Yankee Stadium, Coney Island, the Bronx Zoo, Wall Street, Broadway, the Brooklyn Bridge and Green-Wood Cemetery. No. Their city has been stolen from them by a Left-Right political pincer movement like the one that dumped my insane Aunt Rosa into Times Square. 

Abandoned factory interior
New York City families were forged here.

Here is how that pincer worked – the Left flooded New York with Chinese and Hispanics who became permanent wards of the state and thus Democrat voters while the Right welcomed them as cheap labor. In the 1960s, the factory owners tried to pay their White union-workers coolie and peon wages. The Whites resisted, the factories closed and neighborhoods died. The imported Chinese and Hispanics poured into those formerly union factories that had reopened as sweatshops and they worked there for coolie and peon wages. Simple. Clever. Lethal. Just as predicted to me on the stoop.

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio 
Image: the smiling face of Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as a paperback and eBook amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here
https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn
 

Reluctant Coalburner

Cartoon of different Black female hair types
The Sista Sistahood

I dated a Black usher in the supermarket-basement theater. Or, she dated me. I’d never chased Black women. Tell the truth, they’d always been well-nigh invisible to me. Even as a small child, my only thought was that they all had very skinny legs and big feet. I never even looked up into their faces. I had crossed swords with a few militant Black chicks in college but they’d made little impression. Black girls just weren’t on my radar. I think Sandra sensed this, sensed that I wasn’t a phony White liberal pretending to be color-blind while actually obsessed with adding a Black notch to his bedstead. Hell, I didn’t even own a bed. 

Angela Davis African-American revolutionary
Angela Davis – every White man’s wet dream but mine.

It was undeniable that with our matching Afros, Sandra and I made a cute counter-culture couple. She enjoyed showing off her hippie boyfriend to her Black girlfriends and I enjoyed the envious stares I caught from White dudes who assumed I must be one whole heckuva lotta man to have an Angela Davis look-a-like on my arm. I tried not to notice the hate-filled stares I got from Black dudes. 

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder memoir by Jack Antonio 
Image: the smiling face of Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as a paperback and eBook amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here

Betrayal in Brooklyn

Brooklyn Dodgers - Gil Hodges, Johny Podres and Carl Furillo in 1955
We loved ’em and they left us

The history of Brooklyn repeated itself. In 1957, ten years after integrating baseball with Jackie Robinson, the owner of the Dodgers abandoned Brooklyn for L.A. It was a devastating blow to the fans and it took Brooklyn decades to recover. The final straw for the owner was watching a Puerto Rican piss into a Coke bottle and throw it at a player on the field. He suddenly understood why the Whites who had fled Brooklyn for the suburbs no longer wanted to sit in the stands at his ballpark. The cover story for the Dodger’s move to L.A. was a dispute with New York about the location of a new stadium. The real reason was White flight. 

Proposed domed stadium for the Brooklyn Dodgers.
There was talk of a domed stadium in downtown Brooklyn years before the Houston Astrodome.
Brooklyn’s vibrant, “new demographic” pissed all over the idea of a domed stadium.
Newspaper front page abut Brooklyn Dodgers move to Los Angeles
It took Brooklyn decades to regain its confidence and swagger.

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder memoir by Jack Antonio 
Image: the smiling face of Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as a paperback and eBook
amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn